


coffee grounds & comfort

by IWasMeantToFeel



Category: Humans (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, coffee shop AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-14 12:01:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4563858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IWasMeantToFeel/pseuds/IWasMeantToFeel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Niska's a single mother and Mattie's a barista in her local coffee shop. they start talking, and it goes from there.</p><p>(they're-both-human-and-synths-don't-exist au)</p>
            </blockquote>





	coffee grounds & comfort

**Author's Note:**

> [A/N] Never written a full on AU before so I went for it. Just to avoid confusion, Niska is HUMAN in this story. That's it :)
> 
> WARNING:  
> Nothing triggering here. Just a load of fluff, so if you don't like it don't read it. However, there might be some stuff in later chapters, but I'll warn you...
> 
> ALSO:  
> I haven't got an editor so all mistakes are my own etc etc.
> 
> • I don't own Humans. Sad but true. •

I first start noticing the blonde  
one Monday morning in early December, and from then on I look out for her every day. I soon realise that she has a schedule - she comes into the small, cosy coffee shop where I work on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays at 8:50 am on the dot. I guess that she's on her way to work from her neat and tidy appearance, and the fact that she carries a briefcase, and I gradually notice that I'm trying to make sure I'm always round the front whenever she comes in. I find her intriguing.

It's a week before Christmas Day, and I'm on my usual Wednesday morning shift, churning out regular take away cappuccinos, and the gingerbread lattes that always become popular around this time of year. It's frantically busy, and I'm on my own on this shift, since most of my colleagues are away on holiday, so I've got my hands full. The shop is a good place for work meetings, and every single table is occupied. It is also stifling hot, despite the gusts of freezing cold air that blow in through the door with every tinkle of the bell. To sum it up, it's mayhem. But I've still got the ingredient's for the blonde's vanilla soy milk latte with an extra shot of espresso lined up on the side.

"What can I get you?" I say to the next person in line, a dark-haired guy in a grey suit, who seems to be focusing more on my chest than anything else, and is standing there not responding to my question. He's holding up my queue, and the people behind him are shuffling impatiently. "Are you going to order anything?" I prompt him.

"Oh... a black tea with lemon," he says distractedly, placing the exact change on the counter, not even bothering to make eye contact. "Takeaway." He doesn't say please either. I almost laugh out loud, because if I could have guessed his order, that would have been it. Boring, ordinary... a little bit bland, with a strange aftertaste. It pretty much describes him, just as the blonde's does her. Different. Interesting. Sweet. 

I have black tea brewed anyway, so I pour him a paper cup full, kind of wanting to slosh it over the sides just to annoy him, but also wanting to prove that I'm more than just something to enjoy staring at. I drop a few slices of lemon in and hand it to him. He walks off with it straight away. I make my way through the rest of the queue with only slightly stressed out ease.

It's 8:48. There's no one waiting, so I start making the blonde's order. She always orders a small (not that I've been registering that much detail or anything) but the small cups have run out and I can't be bothered to go and rummage in the storage room right now. I make a medium, with a little extra vanilla sugar, then wipe down the surfaces. I hate the workspace being dirty. For a while I watch the clock tick, taking in the gentle hubbub of the cafe and the chatter of business voices or the more intimate tones of friends meeting for coffee. A baby cries. And then, the doorbell tinkles. I look up and it's the blonde woman. She looks rushed, her usually impeccably straight scraped back hair loose and wavy around her face. It's raining outside, and I know it's a strange thing to notice, but there are droplets of water clinging to her eyelashes. Despite all of this, she still gives me a half smile as she reaches the counter.

"A small vanilla soy latte with an extra espresso shot, please," she says. The emphasis is on the please. As though she's not sure I'm going to give it to her. I smile back, and present her with the freshly made drink.

She hesitates to take it. "How did you...?"

"You order the same thing ever time," I supply. "If I hadn't got it memorised at this point I'd have to be a goldfish."

She laughs at that, and blushes, rummaging in her pockets for money.

"Shit," she mutters. She unzips her briefcase, and I catch a glimpse of a fat wedge of paperwork.

"Are you alright?"

"I've forgotten my purse," she sighs, with gritted teeth. "I was... distracted this morning." She looks like she wants to tell me the whole story, but is stopping herself, maybe not wanting to waste my time. It's a shame, because I'd love to know more about her. "I can't pay," she continues, her eyebrows drawn together in irritation with herself. "I'm sorry, I can't take the drink."

I know I shouldn't, because it's completely against company rules, but I still say, "Don't be silly, have it anyway."

"I could get you into trouble. That's probably one of the things your boss has said you shouldn't do, right?"

That sounds too professional to be a guess. "Lawyer?" I ask her.

She looks flattered. "In training to be. I'm in a desk job right now. I don't have the qualifications yet. Didn't go to law school."

She shuts her mouth, realising that she's said a lot in just a few sentences, but now I know one more thing about her. I silently applaud myself. She looks like a lawyer. I can imagine her interrogating someone, using those piercing blue eyes to make them confess. Her eyes look tired today though, I note, the hastily applied concealer not quite covering up the violet circles beneath them. The baby cries again, and the blonde whips around, looking worried. Maybe she doesn't like loud noises. I feel a rush of pity.

"Just take the drink, and we won't mention it," I wink.

She smiles at this. "I'll pay you back next time though," she insists.

"Don't worry. We'll just pretend it never happened."

"Thank you." Her eyes catch the clock above my head. "God, I'm really late, I've got to go."

"Okay. See you on Friday?" I hope I don't sound too eager.

"I've got the day off on Friday. So probably not," she says. Oh. "Monday, though."

"Monday," I reply, slightly disappointed. "Bright and early."

She gives a small sideways quirk of the lips, and she almost looks mischievous. Maybe flirty? I don't know. I only know that that expression made her seem like a totally different person - more relaxed, happier. She takes a sip of her coffee and turns to leave.

"Wait! What's your name?"

"Niska," she answers. It's unusual - the sound of it is icy and harsh, but it's also a bit like a kiss. I want to say it, see how it feels on my lips, but I don't.

"I'm Mattie." I tell her.

**Author's Note:**

> (to be continued...)


End file.
